Hey – hope you have fun at the reunion this evening. x

I don’t message him back. It’s not as if there was a question in there anyway. Or any life-changing, Australia-related news either. Why hasn’t he told me? I can’t believe I’ve gone from avoiding Mia to avoiding Peter.

I put my phone away, head up the steps and through the imposing wooden doors.

I’m early for an event I don’t particularly want to go to.

But I arrived early to help control the nerves. I don’t know exactly why I’m nervous, but I don’t need to make myself more nervous by being late and sweaty. I also need to find somewhere quiet, out of the way and a walkable distance from the venue to change my shoes.

I wait for Mia in the loo downstairs. She says she’s ten minutes away. An uncomfortably long time to wait in the loo if anyone has seen you go in. But I’m here now, and so here I will remain.

When she does eventually text me to say she’s on her way to the loo, I venture out of my cubicle and pretend I’ve been touching up my make-up.

Hellos over and hands washed, Mia is keen to get going. ‘Come on, let’s head up before the queue for drinks gets too long.’

My entrance is not exactly as I’d hoped (walking upstairs in these heels and this fitted skirt isn’t easy) but we make it. However, my relief is soon over when we walk into the function room. If I named the top fifteen people I never wanted to see again in my life, at least twelve would be in this room.

The only saving grace is that I think I can see the shoulders of Rupert MacDonald in the corner. I realize with shock that I don’t know if I would recognize him face-on, having positioned myself on the table behind him for three years straight, so when he turns around I’m none the wiser.

We get our drinks – cheap wine for me, elderflower cordial for Mia – and then peruse the room. One skill I have proudly developed during my time on this planet is an instinctive understanding of where to stand for superior canapé access. Tonight is no exception.

The only issue is that Harriet is already standing in the perfect spot. Harriet, my arch-nemesis.

My dislike of her was instant. I think it was her voice that first alerted me to her existence; she sounded (and still sounds) alarmingly like some kind of bird. Disturbingly, she also always wore matching cardigans and tops. I don’t know how she did it. I also don’t know why she did it. I assume they came as a set, but goodness only knows where she found so many to buy. If memory serves, she was particularly fond of a pastel yellow. But most frustratingly she was also very intelligent, and would always show me up in our tutorials. She would be the first to take out the required reading from the library, she could remember even the smallest of details, and her vocabulary was second to none.